Category: Weather
In times of plummeting mercury
12th November 2009 It had to come as it often does at the start of November. Temperatures fell on a Sunday night after a fairly pleasant day that saw me fail to get out into the open air as I would have liked. What followed it was a day that mixed fine crisp winter sun and typical November misty murkiness. Some may say that it's still autumn, but the weather feels like winter even if trees retain the last leaves after some stormy interludes. A lunchtime walk had me surveying what's left of the golden shreds after the Indian summer that came to us in September and October.
Apart from the chill in the air, November brought us some unsettled weather too and that seems set to continue; we may be in the midst of a lull at the moment but something more dramatic lies ahead of us if forecasters are right, and they are far from infallible. Thus, it is somewhat timely that The New York Times has brought us an article concerned with the avoidance of hibernation. The activity at the heart of it may be running, but the same malady afflicts those who explore the outdoors world so it's interesting to read another take on the subject, especially given November's habit of bringing grey murky weather with it.
It is tempting to retreat to virtual explorations on one's PC when it looks not so alluring out of doors. Nevertheless, that can have its place too and might even result in putting you out over your activation energy barrier to enjoy what abounds at this time of year. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up old members of my online photo gallery. The ones of Skye are as good as done until I get to add to that collection from a day's walking over Ben Tianavaig last year. Lochaber has come next for a spot of improvement and Argyll hasn't escaped either with an old print taken by the shores of Loch Etive seeing an attempt to better it with a new scan and subsequent Photoshop work; there's a knack in keeping things realistic, a line on the wrong side of which I don't want to find myself.
The trouble with all this tinkering with old photos and is that it consumes spare time like it's going out of fashion, so a short session can gobble time that was set aside for other things. That's what happened to me on Sunday but it has its benefits too. Looking at those old photos reminds you of places where you haven't been for a while. For instance, I now think of that photo of Loch Etive as a less than sharp specimen and wonder about a return visit. In the past, I have played with the idea of a two-day walk from Taynuilt to Glen Coe or vice versa with an overnight stopover at a bothy. Nothing has come of it so far, but the idea of revisiting Loch Etive and passing along Glen Etive for the first time makes the notion attractive. If the weather was to play ball, then it would be even better.
While on the subject of a wandering mindset, there are places in Lochaber to revisit. Loch Treig and the Grey Corries fit in here and there's what's around Corrour too; the idea of disembarking from a Sleeper to walk to Fort William has come to mind from time to time. More civilised spots like Loch Lochy and Loch Arkaig also beckon. Mind you, a spot of bicycle hire might be an idea for the latter pair because progress along the Caledonian Canal as it rounds Meall Bhanabhie can seem so slow as to be infuriating. Still, this is a nice part of the world that should be traffic free and the distances involved make bicycle travel look the more useful. For long-distance travel on foot, there's the Great Glen Way of which I have sampled only a little and it would take me by Loch Lochy on its way to parts that have yet to host my footfall.
Continuing the theme of exploring pastures new, there's around Mallaig too with some introductory possibilities from Morar to gain a sense of what lies about there; it is remote country too, replete with possibilities around Loch Morar and Loch Arkaig for the more adventurous. It's been a few years since I ventured around by these parts while en route from Skye to Oban and the only stops were Mallaig and Glenfinnan. With the options already described and others like Knoydart and the Small Isles within reach, it is perhaps small wonder that the summer excursion that eventually took me to Aviemore could have taken to towards Mallaig instead. In the end, I decided that it was better to try for a time when the weather would have been more suitable for showing off the landscape at its best. Nevertheless, it is good to have such a scheme in mind, for the sake of avoiding indecision if noting else.
Having skirted around it, I suppose that Skye well deserves a longer mention. That walk from Elgol to Sligachan may not get repeated after seeing my surroundings bathed in the sort of light that would have been in order for a week based in Mallaig. However, there are other paths to follow and other parts to savour. Glen Brittle is but one of these and a spot of cycling might be in order given that's how I got about on my first visit to the island. It's never any harm to see new sides to an old favourite.
With all of these, what really hits me is how well peering at old photos can act as a muse as well as being an uplifting distraction from any greyness that is about. It is tempting to say that shortening days curtail the possibilities but I am minded to convert the delights of afar into experiencing what lies on my doorstep. Making use of the latter may set me up for heading further afield yet. In a way, it's amazing what indoor inspiration can achieve so long as you don't spend all of your time lost in the reverie and fail to get out at all. After all, November isn't always murky and December's bright moments should not be missed either.
Episodes of deceptive flattery and testing irritation
2nd September 2009 My recollections of day one of my Aviemore escapade contain more greyness and rain than was actually the case. The skies may have been grey with a certain cool feel pervading the air on my arrival at the place's train station on the Caledonian Sleeper, but it wasn't all thus. Awaiting the bus to Glenmore allowed me the time to both set myself up for a spot of hiking and feel any chilliness; the bus was a few minutes late, so a little more time was available than planned. After the five-mile bus journey, further organisation and orientation followed before I got to striking off up the road towards Glenmore Lodge.
Mercifully, the Forestry Commission saw fit to have a walking and cycling track shadowing the road, so any traffic going to or coming from Scotland's national outdoor training centre could not perturb me once I found the start of the thing. After some uneventful progress, I passed the said outdoor centre to reach Scotways' signage for rights of way to Nethy Bridge and Braemar. There were no plans in my head for going as far as either of those destinations on the day, though I was set for the Ryvoan Pass and would pass the bothy that's there. Being around at an early around meant that I was far from surrounded by hoards, with only a few fellow walkers going their merry way.
If you weren't aware of the forecast, you'd have been tempted to assume that the day was set to remain fair and even get better and better based on the appearances that being put on at the time. This certainly was how it was starting to look around An Lochan Uaine and the pass itself. With the pleasant conditions and lack of midges, I lingered around Ryvoan Bothy for a while and pondered the possibility of using it on an excursion at some unknown point in the future. I still have nothing definite in mind, but it's good what's there all the same.
From the bothy, I set off up the slopes of Meall a' Bhuachaille with things starting to become greyer again. The uphill path is well engineered, but there's nothing more that it can do to ease what is a hefty workout for any pair of legs, especially those carrying everything for a multi-day trip like mine was (a possible disadvantage of using an overnight service when some items cannot be dropped off somewhere). There was nothing for it but to take my time and go at a sensible and steady pace. Time often passes slower than you think on uphill stretches, and you have got to watch that it doesn't skew your judgement of height too. My ascent of Meall a' Bhuachaille had the same ingredients, so that was further encouragement not to go rushing at anything that might turn out to be a false summit. The real summit was to be reached in its own good time, so there was no need to hurry; allowing plenty of time is essential for this type of thing.
Thankfully, the gradients eased as I neared the summit cairn and I paused a while and noted the coming predicted dampness elsewhere around and, as it was soon to turn out to be the case, coming my way. On the descent, doubts were bubbling up regarding the inclusion of further summits on my trot. After having the 810 metres summit to myself, there were a few groups coming up against me, some clad in t-shirts and shorts or tracksuit bottoms, a definite contrast to what I normally use and possibly foolhardy with the weather predictions. After all, some passing dampness had frequented the hill while I was on it.
The path down Coire Chondlaich offered an escape route but, thinking that spells of lighter rain might be what we'd get, I continued to Creagan Gorm on a clear if rougher path. There were still views round about me to be had, with the rolling hills of Abernethy and Cromdale to my north, along with the more dramatic craggy affairs of Cairngorm and Braeriach to my south. After this point, the weather very definitely deteriorated, and I was glad of the waterproofs that I had with me. The wind-pelted rain was one matter, but the loss of visibility was another, and retention of one's wits was mandated by the conditions. One good thing was that the path remained clear, and I could see enough to avoid any calamity. The hills that I was traversing may have been humpy, but rolling or sliding down a steep slope in error does not appeal to me one bit. Patience was another necessity, with plenty of ups and downs that could so easily deceive, as I passed over Creag a' Chaillich on the way to Craiggowrie; there definitely seemed to be more summits than were on my usefully waterproofed Explorer map. The conditions that I met certainly weren't fair, and I hope that the lightly clad brigade made it down in time.
Craiggowrie identified itself both by a definite left-hand turn in the path and a clear if broken down fence. The loss of height helped to inspire confidence too, as did the improving visibility. Though conditions underfoot were understandably boggy, the forest that I intended to enter came into view and the transmitter-topped of Creag a' Ghreusaichie could be picked out from across An Slugan. The air remained damp, but the wetness was less windblown, and a sodden but not soggy Irishman made his way in among the trees.
From there on, continuous improvement was the order of things. Having been out for a few hours, with a goodly number of ups and downs along the way, fatigue was beginning to make its presence felt. Nevertheless, I was by now on good forestry tracks though forestry operations (a fellow walker had forewarned me of these when we met on high in the murk, and it was well signed in any case) meant that one's guard could not be dropped just yet. Though it may not have felt that way at the time, progress was steady with Badaguish Outdoor Centre being passed in good time with not much more time being needed to return to Glenmore from where I had started earlier in the day. The prospect of making my way back to Aviemore on foot did enter my mind, but the encountered wetness meant that it had no staying power.
The by then glorious conditions had me tempted with the idea of extending my walk but, even though it was only about 14:30, I decided to listen to my body and recognise my need for the services of a drying room. That had me returning to Aviemore by bus to book in at its SYHA. Somehow, the option of the SYHA in Glenmore never came to my attention until I went there this time around! It's an accommodation option that I'll be keeping in mind for a future visit.
Back in Aviemore, I duly tidied myself up and placed whatever needed drying into the drying room. After a spot of shopping and obtaining sustenance, I decided to potter into the Craigellachie NNR for a short wander that took me up high enough to gain me some decent views towards the Cairngorms on an otherwise sunny evening beset with light showers; two came upon me while I was out. Even so, it was a good way to walk off some of the evening meal, and I settled down for an early night. It had been a day when the weather both flattered to deceive and, at times, tested to the point of irritation. Only for the photos that I had made, I may well have recalled the discomfiture more clearly than the pleasant interludes, something that the day wouldn't have deserved.
Looks like I got away in time
14th August 2009 The weather prospects may have been uneven, if anything, but I grabbed a few days away in Aviemore this week. The Caledonian Sleeper conveyed me there and away again overnight before today's heavy rain ensconced itself over Scotland. Tuesday saw me trot over Meall a' Bhuachaille, Creagan Gorm, Creag a' Chaillich and Craiggowrie in ever deteriorating conditions (eventually leading to wind blown rain and poor visibility) that left me needing the services of a drying room afterwards. Ironically and maybe irritatingly, the weather improved in leaps and bounds after my descent until the sun appeared on my return to Glenmore. Never let it be said that the Scottish weather doesn't appear to have a sense of humour, but it was decent walking, nonetheless, and I later got in a shower dampened yomp around Craigellachie after an early evening meal.
A mix of sunshine and light showers was what awaited me on Wednesday when I went poking around Inshriach. Whatever sights I might have set on reaching the summit of Creag Dhubh were given something of a cold bath when I saw the thickness of the heathery carpet that I would need to cross and ascend. After the previous day's exertions, I very sensibly thought better of it but have noted the opportunities for a first Munro hereabouts but reckon that more low-level explorations are in order first. I may not have made it to a summit, but a circumnavigation of Loch Gamhna and Loch an Eilean more than made up for that, even if that meant contending with other holidaymakers. More poking followed my evening meal when I got to seek out the Speyside Way, only to note that the route has changed since 2007 when my OS Explorer map was published.
As if to prove that mountain weather has a mind all of its own, Thursday started out damp, so damp that I retreated indoors to the comfort of a return journey along the Strathspey Railway. The dampness hadn't been predicted, but the weather started to turn for the better as I got back to Aviemore again, and a spot of wandering was in order for the afternoon and early evening ahead of my overnight trip south. In short, the steam railway trip had made good use of an otherwise uninspiring morning, and it doesn't take you through ugly surroundings either.
A bus journey conveyed me to Glenmore again, from where I ventured over the Ryvoan Pass on my way to Strath Nethy, where views towards Bynack More and Bynack Beg distracted. In fact, the sight of a good path towards Bynack More has me wondering about doing a trek to its 1090-metre-high summit sometime; having more time available may have seen me make an attempt on the day. As if that weren't enough, there are far too many other options to considered for the same small area, never a complaint. Sun was in short supply, but it stayed dry, and that state of affairs was well appreciated after Tuesday's dousing. Saying that, it was still midge weather, so stopping places needed careful selection so as not to be overrun by the infamous irritants.
Returning to Glenmore meant reprising the outbound journey until after An Lochan Uaine where I selected a forestry path climbing the lower slopes of Meall a' Bhuachaille more enthusiastically than I might have liked at this point. However, I didn't go unrewarded, with the sun coming out to enliven the vistas that opened out before me at the top of the path. Kinder gradients awaited me on the way down a forestry vehicle track.
From Glenmore, I followed the "Old Logging Way", a new off-road cycle and walking track shadowing the road back to Aviemore without appearing on my 2007 OS map. Catching the bus back might have been the less tiring option, but I wasn't going to leave even an ever cloudier evening go to waste. In fact, I was back in Aviemore without feeling too shabby after my exertions and with ample time ahead of my train for getting some food. Whatever doubts surfaced in my mind about the sense of my decision proved groundless.
Looking back at it now, imperfect weather failed to put paid to a well-packed and well-used few days. A trip to Aviemore may not be as attention grabbing as one to the Western Isles like mine last year, but it was a break from the daily hurly-burly and that was what was really needed. Mallaig may have surfaced as an option for a multi-trip this so-called summer, in line with my usual drift to the West Highlands, but the prevailing weather sent me east to follow up on my April excursion and more can follow from this one again. That western drift has left much unfinished business in the east, always a shot in the arm for when it is needed. This posting itself is, as long as it is, the start of an unfinished business with my intending to elaborate in the fullness of time. In a way, it's like the trip itself: a lot done, but more to do.
On dealing with the prospect of rain
21st July 2009 For all of the Met Office's optimism, this summer feels anything but special at the moment with its mix of sunshine and hefty showers. The current cooler conditions may suit me rather better than the sort of temperatures that some would desire but repeated heavy dumps of rain do nothing for the motivation either. With preparation, you certainly could walk in these conditions but the question arises as to how much pleasure would be gained in so doing. Even I admit that the prospect of repeated heavy soakings causes me to consider indoors activities instead. That's exactly what happened last Sunday when I chose clutter clearance over going out and about. Saturday was the better day but there were things that needed doing, such as getting my bike repaired. Since that was done (professionally, I'll add), I have been out on local roads while the rain stayed away for long enough. Yesterday's offering of rainless wads of clouds allowing some sun to come through was the cause of many going out on their bike around lunchtime though things were far quieter when I got to get out on mine after work.
When it comes to going out on wet days, I am always after some dryness to offset the wetness and, even better, to help me dry off. Last August, I embarked on my Scottish island hopping escapade hoping for a little sun among any grey wetness only to be granted a goodly number of sun-drenched days instead. Looking for a little had earned me a lot on that occasion but yearning for a steady improvement after a damp start can prove fruitless too as I found with two trips to Argyll. Then, the rain ended up becoming an irritating nuisance so my buses back to civilisation were very welcome when they came. Whatever preparedness there might have been with regard to gear and experience did nothing to take away from the fact that, when there is no pleasure anymore, it is time to exit. Those who were walking along the West Highland Way in torrid conditions last autumn might know how that feels.
In contrast, there was a time when grey mornings might have kept me at home; using it as a device to allow other important stuff to get done was all very fine but it went far too far. Now, when things look mixed, I take to looking to see how things might develop over the course of a day. Only for that, we might never have got to the hills around Gougane Barra or the cliffs about Kilkee while I was in Ireland last month. It pays not to be too picky, even if trying to discern how things are going to go over the course of day is tricky when television news is all that's available to you.
With all that in mind, I am casting an eye towards the weekend. Right now, it looks promising so I may get in a longer outdoors outing rather than snatched evenings as has been the way recently. Of course, any predictions of fair weather need not become reality and I don't need to be told that, especially after a hike took me among clag-bound and damp Cumbrian fells when they were supposed to be clear. Forfeiting a yomp over Fairfield seemed all the more sensible when I later saw the route that I was planning to take on a clear sunny day. However, you have to live in hope...
Pondering midsummer torpor
6th July 2009 With all the attention given to winter hibernation, it is easy to forget that there is summertime laziness too. Regular readers will realise that I prize the period of the year between the winter solstice and its summer equivalent highly and especially the eruption of verdant vegetation that gives us the wonders of May. The trouble with that is that the wind can evade your sails after the longest day of the year and you get to wondering if the year has passed its best like I did on here about this time last year. This time around, I am less bothered by the matter and I am seemingly more open to the attractions of the time of year and the observation that the countryside still delights even with cloudy skies.
Speaking of last year, July was a quiet month with a perhaps foolish walking trip to Welshpool on an oppressively hot Sunday at the end of the month. Apart from that, it was left to bike rides to capture any episodes of dry or sunny weather because of other preoccupations and distractions about this time; some involvement with dramatic activity in the world of WordPress was only partly to blame.
It's all too easy to have a bout of mid-year lethargy round about now. For one thing, feeling that you have made ample use of any opportunities that arose can only dull the hunger for thrusting oneself into hill country. That can place your motivation at the mercy of other things like the weather. On one end of the spectrum, you have heavy rain showers like those that we have been seeing recently, the type that makes the idea of mobile roof appealing and the heat emphasises the advantages of umbrellas over raincoats in certain conditions. Then, there's hot sunshine and my running hot means that I favour cooler temperatures than some. Also, classic summer weather isn't the best for photography, another mechanism that gets out among those hills. Saying that, pleasant mornings ahead of a rain or wonderful evenings after one often offer the most. These circumstances offer a certain freshness and clarity that is missing from heat haze obstructed equivalents that abound during a heatwave.
The myth may indicate otherwise but July can be a very unsettled month, even in a year not known for a rubbish summer. In 1999, for instance, it was very grey in Edinburgh until the end of the month when a sunny propelled me onto Skye on a multi-day outing that sowed the seeds for many more. Speaking of Scotland, you end up awaiting the departure of the jet stream before settled weather is visited upon the country. In 2003, I called it wrong and had my week up there far too early. Though it felt that I was getting a constant soaking at the time, looking back does highlight its brighter times: a wonderful day spent beside Loch Etive and a dry if dull trot from Kinlochleven to Fort William along the West Highland Way. Staying with hindsight, it might have been better off sticking with reconnaissance on the damper days, but the soakings that I got while travelling between my lodgings in Banavie and Fort William couldn't have been avoided by this approach. However, I did keep it in mind for my Western Isles escapade last year and foul weather alternatives will be placed on file for any trip in August. That isn't to say that July is always damp but 2006 saw a scorcher visited upon us and I extricated something of value amid the uncertainties in 2004 and 2005 too. Last year and the year before were far from inspiring, but dry sunny weather was there to be enjoyed too and that's how I'll remember them.
All in all, that mixture should tell us that it's best not to expect much of July and this year seems to be following suit after the dryness of June. Last weekend mixed in downpours and sunshine so I grabbed the opportunity for a day sailing trip from Liverpool to the Isle of Man. As it turned out, I left a grey Liverpool for a damp Douglas that made me glad that I hadn't committed to spending a lot of time on the island. Along the way, I learnt a little more about what is on offer over there and thoughts are turning to longer trips, more realistically to be occasional but a useful entry on the ideas shelf nonetheless. From what I have seen so far, there seems to be plenty of coastal walking and there's hill country to be savoured too. Public transport on the Isle of Man looks workable too with a good level of service on offer. Sunshine may have been encountered in Liverpool rather than my destination but I am not so easily discouraged. If I was, I might have stopped exploring the British and Irish countryside long ago.
Ideas for that week in August are collecting and they aren't all Scottish either. For one thing, there's always the Pennine Way, but Connemara has come to mind already and now the Isle of Man. Scottish proposals like the Rob Roy Way, extending out from Mallaig, the Cairngorms and the north-west Highlands remain in the running. The options may be more open this year but it's good to have them too. Hopefully, something can come of them.
